


I'm Burnin' For You

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Blue Oyster Cult, Music RPF
Genre: Angst, Fire, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, May be unsettling to some readers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: "...He'd never realized that fire could be so damned loud." When tragedy strikes at Eric Bloom's house after a late night writing session, he and Buck Dharma have an experience in evacuation that brings them closer together, and brings about a new source of inspiration to bring triumph to their band.





	I'm Burnin' For You

**Author's Note:**

> A take on how Burnin For You could have been written (this is *not* how the song was written and the events of this fic are completely fictional).

He felt something grabbing him, shaking him. As if somebody was shaking him with one hand and smothering him over the face with the other. It was hard to breathe. The air was thick, warmer than he expected on a New York night, and everything was dark.

"Buck!"

Buck Dharma sat up fast with a gasp for air, practically yelping, and immediately felt tickling and burning in the back of his throat. He coughed and gagged for a second, closing his eyes to the room around him once more, realizing that the smothering sensation hadn't been anyone's doing, but it was real. Something in the air.

"Buck, please, wake up!"

Eric Bloom. His voice sounded dreadful. Like something was terribly wrong. 

At first, Buck was confused, still in the clutches of sleep, wondering why Eric was here. Then he remembered, groaning at himself. He was at Eric's house -they were working on material for a new album, fighting writer's block and struggling to come up with ideas, and had been up so late into the night that Buck ended up crashing there.

Eric was rather down to earth at all times. He wasn't one to panic. If he sounded that frantic, then something was very wrong.

A sickening feeling dropped into Buck's stomach, but before he could open his eyes or ask as to what was going on, Eric answered him with one of the worst fears of any person -something they never thought that either of them, nor any of their bandmates would experience.

"Buck, get up, now! The house is on _fire!"_

Opening his eyes, Buck became aware of the light grey haze of smoke in the air. It hadn't gotten too thick to see yet, but it was steadily building, and soon it would become dangerous up here in the top level and attic of the burning Cape Cod. 

Smoke rose. Eric had risked himself running up here to the guest bedroom where the smoke was getting thicker from his own bedroom downstairs.

Not needing to be told again, Buck jumped out of bed, instinctively jamming his feet into his shoes beside the bed. As he did, he heard an awful rickety noise over the din of crackling and roaring from down the hall on the other side of the staircase. The structure weakening. Support beams in the walls and floor beginning to snap.

Gracious, he'd never realized that fire could be so damn _loud._

Eric whimpered under his breath. Buck looked at him, and he was green in the face and frozen in place, eyes closed. It was as if the noise had glued him to the spot.

"Alright, Eric, I'm up. Come on, we gotta move fast. I'm with you -the fire's worse on the other side of the stairs, and we'd better get down before they start burning -if they haven't already. And if that, before they collapse!"

Eric seemed to snap out of it, because he charged down the stairs, and Buck ran down after him. 

The stairs weren't burning yet, but the walls just past them were all ablaze, flames licking upward toward the ceiling, and Buck could feel how hot the wooden floorboards of the steps were through the bottoms of his sneakers. His heart was pounding, the smoke in the air was thick and nauseous, and his eyes stung so that they watered and leaked tears from the corners while he coughed and breathed in the toxic black clouds. It was dark, and where he saw flames up the wall on the far side of the house, it was painfully bright in contrast.

"Let's try and get out the back," shouted Eric.

Buck was unsure whether this was Eric wanting to stick to habit out of comfort, to pass through his dining room, study, and kitchen and see them one last time before evacuating, or just out of a knee jerk reaction from fear.

_No, no, no!_ a voice nagged Buck from within his mind. _Front door. It's closer. It's safer. You two don't have much time._

But Eric had already turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and was running through the living room to the study.

Buck ran after him, despite the invisible force that seemed to be pushing against him and slowing him down -the way he always felt whenever he was trying to get somewhere fast or escape some unknown danger. Except this time he did know the danger, and it was even worse.

No way was he letting Eric out of his sight until they were out of that house though. His instinct and whatever else it was telling him to go to the front be damned.

He caught up with Eric halfway through the study as Eric froze in place, finding the dining room ablaze and impassible. The floor was up in flames as the carpet fueled the destruction, feeding it into the hardwood floor, and blackness hung down beneath the surface of the table. Through it, Buck could see faint silhouettes of white chunks falling from the ceiling. Plaster.

"Eric, we're going out the front," Buck ordered. "I know, man, but we gotta get out of here, right now!"

Eric projectile-vomited through the doorway of the dining room. He tried to brace himself against the wall and flinched back as the heat shocked against his hand. The wall on their side hadn't caught yet, but flames were racing up the other side, heating up the plaster, ready to rip through it at any second. Buck grabbed and steadied him so that he didn't fall as he let go.

"Come on," said Buck.

A chunk of plaster fell in the study behind them, and it was evident that the fire was spreading to its walls.

"Now!" shouted Buck, grabbing Eric's hand and pulling him, snapping him out of his shock-induced trance.

He let go as he saw panic flash through Eric's eyes, and he began to run back through the study. Faster, Buck got ahead of him, running back through the living room. The fire had spread upstairs, and it had gotten through to the front living room faster. The living room was built differently and had an airier design to it. It featured windows up to the ceiling along the side of the house, with wood paneling and drapery along the front side, thinner plaster to the walls -all allowing the fire to get through it twice as fast. 

Buck passed in front of the stairs, into the room before the door and yanked it open. He sighed, taking a gasp of the sweet, cool, fresh air that hit and soothed his sweltering skin, hearing Eric running behind him and intending to stay in the doorway until Eric was with him.

Eric gave off a pained grunt as a wooden board -part of the ceiling design and architecture -fell and him in the back. He tripped and over another board that had already fallen in front of him, distracted by the one that hit him. Catching the edge of the area rug with his toe as he tried desperately to keep his balance, he fell down on top of the board ungracefully and screamed in agony as a nail sticking out of it impaled the side of his lower leg.

Buck whirled around, having heard the thump and the scream that followed.

"Eric!" he called, not having seen what had happened.

Eric moaned loudly, curling up and clutching his leg. The nail hadn't stuck out too far to get stuck -approximately half an inch -and when he'd flinched in pain, it came free. But it had either hit the muscle or a nerve, because his whole lower leg seized up in excruciatingly painful spasms, and blood that might have been staunched had it been stuck ran profusely from the puncture wound.

Buck looked on in horror, his breathing speeding up to fast gasps, making him dizzy as he gulped the air that was now heavy with smoke through all reaches of the house. He realized that Eric was injured -not knowing how, but aware that he couldn't get out without help.

Another board fell from above, the plaster of the ceiling gone. A now-bare support post between them was burning, and the smoke up to the ceiling was getting darker to resemble that in the dining room as the air got unbearably hot against Buck's skin. He wasn't sure whether his throat was closing up at the smoke or the sheer heat of the air, but there was fire all around Eric as flaming boards fell. He wouldn't last long if he wasn't away from where he was right away.

"Buck!" Eric coughed, still crying out in pain, but the light was leaving his eyes.

Buck had a choice to make, and if he didn't hop to it, there would no longer be a choice.

He chose the option that would soon be taken from him.

"I'm coming, Eric!" he called, charging away from where he was almost to the door, and running back into the living room, dodging fallen pieces of plaster and wood. Flames jumped at his legs, the rug on fire from the fallen, burning boards, and he moved fast, no place to roll out a fire if he allowed long enough for his pants to catch. On the other side of the rug, he reached Eric.

"Buck," choked out Eric with labored coughing, his eyes beginning to lose focus.

Buck nearly staggered backward at the sight of the blood running down the side of Eric's shin. 

"You stay with me, Eric, you hear? We have to go, quick. Get your arms up over my shoulders." Buck squatted down, and Eric weakly slung his arms up over Buck's shoulders. Buck hoisted Eric up and heaved from the floor with a labored groan, keeping his arms locked around Eric. With Eric slung over his shoulder, he had one arm around Eric's torso, and one under his butt, which was slightly above his hips, Eric having locked his legs around Buck's waist as best as he could.

Buck only hoped that Eric was too out of it to care that he was touching him there, or would understand the purpose of it to not think anything uncomfortable about it. He felt it was probably awkward enough for Eric as it was.

The flames were rising against the walls now, the air nearly black and suffocating, just mere minutes from flashover. Upstairs had already flashed over -Buck could tell, because the noise was incredible above them, the ceiling was on fire, and flames seemed to roll down the stairs. It was just making the first floor burn faster now. The fire on the ground being the only guide through the house, Buck sprinted forward, no gap in the jumping orange to slip through. He got through the living room to the passageway passageway in front of the stairs to the mud room, feeling the heat sear against his ankles painfully.

_It's not that bad. It's okay, because it's for Eric -getting him out of here safe._

He felt his clothes catching on fire as he did, the flames shooting down the stairs reaching out to grab him, and the heat was so strong and burning that Buck would never know what hit him or fully remember it. Only a wave of emergency adrenaline allowed him to shoot through the front door, down the three steps without falling, and onto the front lawn in a split second, dropping Eric down and rolling frantically in the grass to smother the flames. 

As soon as he'd gotten himself extinguished, Buck jumped up, running over to Eric, panting raggedly.

"Eric, man, look at me! Are you okay?! Don't be on fire too -oh, please, don't be on fire...!"

Eric was not burned or on fire, the flames having somehow only caught Buck, but he was barely conscious, wheezing shallowly and gagging. Blood continued to spurt from his leg, and Buck tore off his shirt effortlessly, the singed side giving way almost immediately upon his pull. Folding the parts of the fabric that weren't blackened, Buck pressed it into Eric's leg.

He heard sirens up the street, and lights in the distance. They were getting closer. The person next door had called the fire department. Dizzy with relief and crashing off his adrenaline, Buck collapsed next to Eric.

He was only aware of fire men with hoses running past them toward the house, one running inside with a flashlight and axe, and the first responders running toward him.

"Can you hear me, sir?"

"Yes," Buck coughed. He pointed to Eric. "Take care of him first, he's worse, and he's bleeding."

"Are there any others?" ordered another.

"No," said Buck.

He heard an indecipherable order over beeping of a handheld radio, likely calling the fireman out of the house, as no search was needed.

"You're breathing well on your own, but you need some help for a few minutes, just to make sure you're safe," said an EMT, pressing a mask connected to a tube over his nose and mouth.

"Breathe," instructed the other one tending to Buck. Can you hold the mask on yourself?"

Buck nodded, keeping the mask pressed firmly over his mouth as he took in deep gulps, his body frantically pulling it in to compensate for what it had been deprived of. He saw the fireman run out of the house, just as the smoke caught fire and flashed over through the main, ground floor of the house. Flames shattered and melted the glass of the windows noisily, and tore up along the exterior as it did, and waves of smoke flew off the house as water pumped from the fire hoses -up from the ground and down from the ladder of the truck.

Eric choked to life as he was intubated, coughing and gagging the first two seconds, his body trying to fight the tube. Another first responder had bandaged his wound, though he would obviously need further treatment for it, and he kept flailing in panic at not being able to breathe on his own, unaware that the tube was doing it for him, which promoted blood flow to his leg, causing the red to seep through the dressing and bandaging.

"Sir, please calm down and hold still, or we will have to sedate you-"

Buck crawled forward against orders and put his arm around Eric's shoulders, pulling him in against himself.

"Eric, listen. It's okay. Don't fight the tube, it's doing it for you. Calm down. It's over. Done. We're outside. It's done. I'm here. We're out and it's gonna be okay," he said gruffly.

Eric's struggling slackened off, and he met Buck's eyes, his expression more terrified and devastated as any that Buck had ever seen. He looked up to the house, at Buck, to the house again, down at himself, and back to Buck, and nearly choked on his tube again as he tried to hyperventilate with shock.

Buck was hazed over in the high of shock too. He wasn't aware of the nurse dressing his second degree burns and draping a blanket over his shoulders, nor was he aware that he was in shock too. The only thing -or person -that he was aware of was Eric, and his heart fluttered with an indescribably ache -almost as if the fire had scorched it too -as he thought of what would have happened if he had gotten to Eric a second later than he had, or hadn't even managed to.

"Shhh," whispered Buck, holding onto Eric. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out. We're okay."

Eric buried his face against Buck's side, hiding from the dreadful sight before him, succumbing to exhaustion and shock again. Subconsciously, he still could hear Buck's whispers, and feel his hold against him, patting him soothingly.

_We're gonna be okay, Eric. I'm here for you, and I'm gonna help you. We're gonna find a way to make it okay._

************

Buck awoke hours later in the hospital. He knew it was the hospital before he opened his eyes. He could smell the disinfectant, feel the blindingly bright lights through his eyelids, and hear the faint beeping of monitors growing louder as the clutches of sleep lessened their hold on him.

There was a soreness on his right side. Not a deep one, like a muscle ache or anything. It was more of a skin-level soreness that stung when he reached over and placed pressure on that side. He could feel that parts of his skin were covered in stretchy, gauzy material.

Stretching and moaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position and opened his eyes, blinking and recoiling against the light.

"Glad to see you're with us, Mr. Roeser," remarked the nurse, who was sitting in and watching.

Ugh, Roeser. If there was any time he would despise being called by his formal birth name, Donald Roeser, it would be when he was in the hospital after going through and surviving a true night from hell. He was Buck Dharma, damn it, and that was what he wanted to be called!

"Glad to be waking up too. Please, call me Buck," he said. "Can you tell me what in the world happened after Eric and I got out of his house?"

The nurse filled Buck in on what he'd been treated for, and handed him the documentation from the fire department.

Buck was blistered on both his lower legs, his right forearm and flank where he'd been caught by the flames down the stairs, and most of his skin not covered by his clothing had reddened with first degree burns simply from exposure to the air so hot. However, even the worst of his second degree burns were deemed as not so severe that they would not heal on their own. He wouldn't require skin grafts or any extensive long-term treatment. Just very strong antibiotics and a regimen of frequent changing of bandaging to prevent infection until enough healing to the blisters had taken place to form a barrier to pathogen.

Buck wasn't sure whether it was something to be proud of or not that he was happier in that the fire had not gotten up on him high enough to burn his hair. He remembered how long it had taken him to get his hair to his shoulders in the 70s -it grew slower than average, and it seemed that even longer hair was becoming the thing as the new decade settled on them.

The fire department never could figure out the true cause of the fire. One speculation was it could have been the electrical panel, given the shorted-out appearance of it, but that was down in the basement. It didn't make sense that the attic level of a medium sized Cape Cod house would have the most fire damage first if the fire had started in the basement.

Buck highly doubted that it was from a cigarette. That was one thing that he and Eric were both very cautious of, having heard plenty of stories, and after a small, quickly-put-out fire had started at Allen Lanier's apartment years ago. They made sure that their cigarettes were all the way out in an ashtray when they were in the house, and made a point of emptying all their ashtrays outside and away from the house before going to bed for the night.

He at least didn't think that Eric would have left a candle burning somewhere. The only time that Eric would leave candles burning for an extended period of time was at Hanukkah, which was still several months away. 

_Cause: Undetermined. Origin unknown_ , read the document.

Eric's house had been condemned, as expected, far too damaged to be inhabited. The framework was unsound, and with the size of the house, it would likely be torn down. The cost of rebuilding the supporting structure would be just as costly, and the house still wouldn't be as strong as before. This meant displacement for Eric, either by moving, living out on the road as he had for a while, or coming into the city to live with Buck for a while until more permanent arrangements could be made. Eric would understand, but it was terrible -he was going to be devastated by this even if he'd known it last night.

On the topic of Eric...

"Is Eric okay?" asked Buck, suddenly looking up from the papers, worry coming into his mind. 

"Eric is going to be okay. He's still resting and receiving treatment for smoke inhalation, but he's expected to recover. He needs to stay resting for a while longer though while we observe him for any signs of infection or other complications. But he is doing better and breathing on his own now, and his puncture wound should heal okay. He nicked his muscle, so he'll have to work on it a little bit to get back up to strength, and he did receive a tetanus shot, but nothing serious and no infection."

Buck closed his eyes with relief. His mind flashed back to last night in the lawn, looking up at the house with fire tearing out the upper story windows, reassuring Eric it would be okay, running back through those flames and feeling it burn his skin as he did...

"Ma'am?" asked Buck, looking up.

"Yes, Buck?"

"Is it acceptable for me to request a pencil and a sheet of paper?"

The nurse stood up.

"Of course you can have pencil and paper."

The words just seemed to flow from the pencil onto the sheet of paper once Buck had the materials and a clipboard to bear down on. On the back, he scribbled down his short hand notation for a progression he heard in his head. The striking of a big, heavy F chord that set a pedal tone to ring underneath a harmonized double lead. He wasn't sure how the rest of it would go instrumentation wise, but he knew it would come together once they all got back in the studio. This one had the potential to hit big. He knew it.

Hours passed. He sang the song over and over in his head, trying different tunes to the lyrics. Guitar leads would come later, but he knew to fit the melody he felt carried the feeling of the words best, the song would have an introduction based on the F chord, C Major and G Major chord progressions, and in different sections of the verse and chorus switch between C Major and A minor. This, he did not have to write down. The tune to the lyrics was set in his mind just as strong as the images of the fire last night.

"Buck?"

A knock came at Buck's door.

"Buck, you have a visitor," called the nurse from outside.

"Come in," called Buck.

The door swung open.

Eric. He was leaning against a crutch, wearing a pair of track pants underneath his hospital gown, one leg hiked up to display an impressive bandage -but otherwise, he looked surprisingly well physically.

"Eric!" exclaimed Buck, eyes widening.

Eric limped over, not saying anything. He climbed up on the edge of the bed and locked himself onto Buck in a tight embrace. Buck held onto Eric too, swept off his feet with another wave of relief just as he had been last night after getting him out of the house.

"Are you okay, Buck?" asked Eric, muffled against him.

"Yes, I'm o- oh, Eric, I'm so sorry," Buck whispered, knowing that by now, Eric knew the fate of his house.

"Oh no, Buck, don't-you don't have any reason to be sorry-"

"Eric-"

"There wasn't anything you could have done to stop it -it was already too late by the time I woke up. You got me out-"

Eric trailed off as he felt Buck's side, his arm, and noticed the bandaging.

"Buck, you got _hurt!"_

"You already were hurt. I guess it wouldn't have been fair for one of us to come out unscathed," snorted Buck, trying to produce some dry humor.

"No, it's not," said Eric, letting go, seeming to retreat rather pitifully, as if he were blaming himself for not being able to get up after he fell.

"I think a few burns were worth both of us making it out alive, Eric," Buck argued gently. "It's at least worth it to me, and I'd like to think it'd be worth it to Allen and the guys."

Eric didn't respond. He looked beyond Buck, noticing the piece of paper with Buck's guitar notation on the back.

"Buck? What's that?" he asked.

Buck picked it up.

"Was thinking about everything after I woke up and came up with this," he explained, handing it to Eric. "Why don't you flip it over and read it? If you're up to it, that is." Buck hoped it wouldn't hurt Eric, being so soon afterwards.

"Now I gotta read it, because you've got me wondering what it's about." Eric flipped over the paper and began reading.

It wasn't long before the lyrics clicked with Eric. Buck could tell as his demeanor changed -his eyes widening and his furrowed eyebrows relaxing to a look of near shock.

"Buck-"

"It was worth it, and this is what came for it. I wrote this song for you."

Eric continued reading the lyrics, apparently lost for words. He kept his usual stoic exterior in place, but it was evident his emotions were touched.

"Thank you, Buck," he whispered, getting to the end of it. Buck sat up and embraced Eric again

"You know, like I said, if you need to stay with me in the city for a while until you can figure something out, you're welcome to -I know it's not... But it's something until then. If there's anything I can do to make it better-"

"Well," said Eric after a moment of silence. "I guess if there's good to be pulled out of this, then we can consider these lyrics -because we weren't really getting anywhere last night. And that all but one of my guitars were out in the garage -they're all still safe."

"Yeah, it's something," said Buck. "But I think we can work on it and get even better than that."

_But if we don't get any further with this idea and nothing else comes out of this, Eric, I'm just glad that you're alive and okay right now. That's all that matters, because everything else can be replaced, but you can't be._

"I think you should sing it," said Eric, pulling Buck out of his internal thoughts.

"Really?"

"It's what you wrote, it's your perspective and feelings, you were the one who got burned -I think you'll be able to put more into it than I could."

"Well, I had a few ideas for the vocals I was going to suggest to you -tried to come up with a melody to it."

"Can you sing it to me?" asked Eric.

"Here? In the hospital?" asked Buck, blushing a bit. He had sung on a good number of their songs before and wasn't shy of it, but there was something about singing without a guitar in his hands that felt unnatural. And to sing that song in the hospital -what would the nurses think?"

"We're rock stars -I don't think it's a sin to sing if we want to," declared Eric. "But if you don't want to, Buck, thanks for letting me see it at least. Because those lyrics mean a lot -they make it better. They're making it _okay."_ Eric grabbed for his crutch and heaved himself up off the bed.

Buck remembered his words to Eric last night. If he'd felt the, strong last night, they were increased tenfold now. Seeing Eric with his leg bandaged, leaning against a crutch, and with a distant sadness in his eyes that stayed with even the most optimistic people after such a devastating event -Buck felt the need to continue doing what he could to make it better and make Eric happy again

It was occurring to him that Eric was his closest friend and bandmate who meant more to him than anyone else right now, and he had a drive to protect him.

"Eric, come here," said Buck, taking the sheet of paper in his own hand.

Eric turned around, eyebrows raised, and sat back down.

Buck looked directly at Eric and began to softly sing, using enough power to convey the effect of the song, but toning it down so it didn't ring about the hospital.

_"Home in the valley, home in the city..."_

By the second verse, Eric knew the tune and was following along on the paper, adding some backup vocals with a subtle harmony.

"Damn any doubt about it, Buck," said Eric as they finished. He was breathing heavily, as if something had struck a chord within him. "You're singing it, and we're definitely calling up Allen, and Meltzer at the studio -and we're figuring out the rest of this song as soon as we're out of here. This is the silver lining."

And a year later, Blue Oyster Cult had a new album go platinum: Fire of Unknown Origin. "Burnin' for You", Buck's song, hit number 1 on the charts. All the result of attempts of turning tragedy into triumph.


End file.
